As I Fall Dying
by MetellaStella
Summary: Humpty Dumpty's last thoughts before he hits.


As I fall, watching the look of horror on Puss's face, the rhyme taunts me.

_Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall_

_Humpty Dumpty had a great fall_

_All the king's horses and all the king's men_

_Couldn't put Humpty together again._

It's soul-scrambling to think that those words were all that survived in others' minds of my dreams, after the bank heist.

For whatever reason, the stinking words, delighting in laughing at the image of my innards splattered across the dirt, oozed out of Puss' little shanty town. I call it _his,_ because I still don't really consider it _my_ home. I've done what I've done for **him**, not those insects.

Who the heck knows how those four lines soaked into the collective popular consciousness of places beyond this parched region. Why people chose to latch on to my story, I didn't know. Why it evolved into a tale about a hapless, harmless citizen, rather than the scheming _mastermind_ that I was, I didn't know, either.

I **did **know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that _**nobody**__ could put me back together again. _

My heart was broken into so many pieces that day that I'm certain they're not back in their places. I wondered angrily for a long time which of the vindictive soldiers slipped in my death at the end of the retelling. For so long, after I escaped, I tried to put it behind me, get on with my life, and wander further away, but always I was drawn back to the scene of the crime, haunting the shadows. Always my thoughts were drawn back to one leather-wearing ginger tabby.

And another thing I did know, was how the "king" replaced the Commandant- people always insert superlatives into the stories they repeat, to make them more exciting. There was no "king" of the dirt-poor San Ricardo. The townsfolk often joked morbidly that there wasn't enough wealth to scrape together in the entire place to hire a single fancy onion carriage ride to Far Far Away. With the food, exchanging teams of horses, armed guard, and cross-territorial passports and taxes, maybe they were right.

But it certainly isn't that way anymore.

At least I accomplished _that._

Maybe, _now_ there will be more than-

Four. _Stupid._ _**Lines.**_

I intended to have a grand saga written about me, when my plan was over and done with. But now, I find myself just hoping that Puss will be kind enough to write me a footnote in the annals of history. Not one whitewashing my actions. No, that was what I wanted but a few minutes ago.

Before I realized that the idiot was going to kill _himself_ trying to save _me._

Before I realized that he still held me _and _the town in _**equal **__regard._

Now, I just want to be _remembered._ In _some _way.

Why couldn't he just abandon them to their fate, and choose the one he called _brother_, for once?

He couldn't care about me as much as _I _admired- no- _adored _him.

No, he was always the hero. That's who he was.

And as soon as I accepted that, I knew what I had to do.

I bet he doesn't even understand this, but his final words broke me again.

I said I didn't even know _what_ I was.

He answered that I was his brother.

That was always the problem, wasn't it? I was a solo flier, until my identity started to rely on what he thought of me. Until the huge question of being the single one of my kind that I knew of was stifled into irrelevance by the purpose and certainty and companionship in those big yellow-green eyes.

And I'll bet he doesn't even _understand_ this, but he's betrayed me _again._

_Brother mine._

The ground rushes up, and I don't hear the crack.

* * *

I open my eyes.

And blink into darkness.

_Awake!Awake!Awake!_

I turn my head towards- what I _think_ is sound- and find that I _can _turn my head. Somehow. Without having to turn my body. Which is so disorienting, my stomach turns as well. My eyes adjust and show I'm not in _complete_ darkness, but my skin tells me that I am trapped. I try to twist in panic only to produce a wet, squishy sound. The thick liquid that I'm apparently suspended in further escalates the roiling of my insides and the confusion of my mind.

_Hush, still. _

Soothing. Whatever it is, it's immediately soothing. I relax, still suspended.

_Only a single thing- to out. _

The abstract thought, vague though it is, makes sense on some instinctual level.

I ram my nose into the nearest surface.

Or rather- my _beak._

A chink of light greets me. Again and again I poke holes in my round, gelatinous- golden?- prison, and then I tumble out. I bump my chin, unable to quite keep my head up. The light by now is blinding, and it takes me a few minutes to make out a yellow-white figure sitting, looking down at me.

_Brother! Alright? Fell!_

She communicates in short extremes, superlatives. She is gawky, with some true white feathers poking through her yellow down here and there.

I open my mouth to say, "I'm okay," but only cheeping comes out.

I can't talk.

Confusion and panic threaten to take me again.

I can't _talk_ . . . !

_No talking, but speaking can,_ the larger presence behind me consoles. _Still._

_Like this?_ I test it out._ You . . . you called me __**brother?**_

_Of course, silly. _

The friendliness of the reprimand baffles me, because I was a moment ago beginning to be _sure _that this gosling was the same chick I kidnapped.

_She too young. Doesn't remember._ The second presence informs me.

Belatedly, I remember exactly _who _is speaking. The huge, toothed beast bird! She knocked down entire buildings in her rampage. An image of her past ferocity flashes before me, in stark contrast to the present gentleness, and my emotions swing yet again.

_Did not recognize you._ The shame and sorrow in the apology wraps around, and then soaks into me. _Lost were, didn't stay warm. Believed you badstill. Not hatched. _

A memory unfolded, of her first living egg. So many laid, that were solid metal, all the way through. So many bandits, so many seeking riches, who stole her eggs. But this one- this was the most important one, at the time. They snatched it from her all the same. Without a nest, and without the mystical bond to her, there was no way it would become the bird it was meant to be.

I never _did_ hatch, I suddenly understood. But I _lived!_

No accounting for magic, I suppose.

_My_ earliest memory is wandering that town alone.

The Mother Goose's loneliness from that time mixed with my own. Until she laid her second living egg, amongst the piles of ones useless to her, she mourned me. She _missed _me.

_Glad you hatched, little one. Three attacks since came. _

_My wing hurt_. Sister added.

Three attacks since she brought me back here, as a golden-shelled egg, to the mansion in the sky, to re-forge my link and incubate me. Three! How can they _live_ like this? The cruel irony stings me: _**I**_took her from _our_ mother. Others want to do the same. I know how strong that thirst for wealth is.

I see the scab that swipes across her little appendage, the beginning of something that would one day carry her on the wind.

_I'm sorry. _

Sudden anger and protectiveness rushes through me, and I try to rear up in both guilt and outrage.

I flop on the floor again in a fuzzy heap. _Curse _this weakness. A bit exhausted, my beak is open wide, breath coming quickly, tongue sticking out. As the feelings ebb, however, another thought strikes me.

Of _course._

This is why I had always been _obsessed_ with flying. To the point of_ insanity_. Why I had spent long hours and risked _life _and _limb_ to invent a flying machine. I needed it almost as badly as I needed breathing. Even though I might never be able to breathe another word to any other beings besides these, that's a _perfectly_ good trade for _this._

_You are home now, my little chick. My firstborn is back where he needs to be._

The head that hovers over me now is _huge, a_s I remember. Just her neck is longer than the whole of the younger bird.

_No, he is my __**little **__brother,_ Sister argues good-naturedly. _He is smaller. _

I've finally adjusted to this, so their sentences are a little clearer. I cheep, but inside I am laughing at her reasoning. _I am older and more experienced, though. I am your big brother. _

_Nope, nope, nope. _She clucks. _**Baby**__ brother. I'll fly before you do. I'll protect you._

_You cannot even protect __**yourself**__. _I retort.

She fluffs up what little plumage she has in affable affront.

_Maybe not yet._

She gets awkwardly to her feet, swaying on little legs, but even in the motion I can see her future grace: our native place is the sky, and the water, not the ground.

_But one day, brother, we will._

Still on the floor, I estimate my fledgling sister's size. She's easily four or five times bigger than that ginger feline.

I can no longer smile, as I could when I was a living, mobile egg. But the thought of him sends glee, of a sort, from the crown of my head to the tip of my stubby tail.

He_ isn't_ my brother. He _never_ was.

It's like I take flight, mentally, in that moment. I am finally free of whatever bound me so tightly to him. I have a sibling now. A _real_ sibling. The one I should have had all along.

Her imagination flares in response, three gigantic geese, mighty and terrifying.

_We will show them._

_We will show them __**all.**_ I agree.

My heart races in anticipation. I've been unwieldy all my life. Always awkward. Falling, tripping, rolling, weak, weak _weak._ Everyone always ridiculed me. But soon, I will have _real _power, to wield as I wish, in addition to my prodigious mind. I will loom larger than I ever thought possible.

Plots already begin winding. First, we will need to track down all those wretched magic beans. Every. Last. One.

Then, we will rid the world of any creatures larger than a horse that can fly. That is the only hope for my mother and sister to live in peace. Dragons will be particularly challenging. But I've always loved a good challenge. A good puzzle.

Then, there's the matter of one irksome tabby cat.

From there, endless possibilities stretch out before me.

I have a new family, and a new body.

My name was Humpty Alexander Dumpty.

One day, every creature will either submit or perish, every creature under the sun will _respect _and_ fear _the title,

Xander the Giant Gander.


End file.
